Promises of Fire
by Delfae
Summary: Rhysa Tabris. Brash, rude, and deadly with anything sharp. The last thing she ever expected to be doing was saving the world, but with ulterior motives and a growing fondness for her companions, she becomes increasingly less averse to the idea. The basic premise and characters of DA:O but with some changes. And don't worry. There will be romance. I mean c'mon. It's fan fiction.
1. Prologue

Promises of Fire: Origins [Prologue]

I would be lying if I said I had not seen that it would eventually come to this. The advantage to having a rather good idea of knowing what is to come, of course, is that you can plan for it. Thus, I'd have been a fool had I not planned for it, and despite the many things I may be, a fool is not among them.

"What are my charges?" I asked, smirking up at the knight commander in front of me.

The rather hulking man turned to me and sighed. "As if you don't already know?" The knight-commander's appearance did him no justice, and the ageing process appeared to have been sped up through the constant annoyances I imagine he faced. By annoyances, of course, I mean those such as myself.

"Yes, it does seem as though I'm a bit foggy. If you'd be so kind?"

"I don't exactly have the time, knife-ears-"

"I do believe it is within my rights to have my charges read to me," I cut him off, and he snarls. As the knight left the room to acquire the paperwork, I was left on my own.

The rope bonds tying my wrists to the chair burn into my skin as I attempted to remove them, so I decided to resort to less elegant methods of escape. Bending forward and standing up, I lifted the chair so as to be able to move, albeit being attached to a chair. I managed to make my way over to a wall of which the commander had adorned a rather beautiful array of swords.

Sawing one of the ropes off along a sword that had specifically caught my eye, I managed to free my right hand from the bonds. Quickly, I untied the ropes from my other hand, and I threw the chair to the ground. I grabbed the bottle of ink from the commander's desk, and stood beside the doorway.

Why the hell would someone take a criminal into a room filled with so many ways of escape?

Oh, but of course. Humans.

"Okay, so we have escaping the Alienage, petty theft, murder, more theft, more murder, blah blah- wait, where-" and as the commander walked through the door, I swung the bottle into the side of his head. The commander collapsed to the floor, a combination of blood and ink dripping down his face.

The two guards that had been outside of the door ran in as they heard the ruckus. Kicking my leg in a sideways arc, it connected with the first knight's face, which combined with the momentum of his running into the room, knocked him into a heap on the floor. The next guard actually managed a swing of his broadsword, but the combined weight of his armour and the sword itself caused the attack to be extremely slow and thus easily avoided. Ducking and maneuvering to behind the guard, I kicked out at the guard's back and he proceeded to trip on his fallen comrade.

I grabbed the previously utilised sword from the wall, kicking down the knight that still appeared to be conscious. I sprinted out of the room and down the hall. Right or left?

Left.

Slashing and kicking at any knight that posed any immediate threat, I eventually (and through sheer luck) managed to find my way to the main hall.

"You might want to consider stopping now," a booming voice said. Turning around, I found myself face to face with a presumably middle-aged man. With black hair tied back and a full beard, the man did not appear to have any intention of unsheathing his sword.

"You do realize that I'm currently escaping imprisonment and possible execution, yes? So I've got to run, if you don't mind," I smiled, turning to continue out of the hall. Suddenly, though, at least a dozen fully-armed knights had surrounded the man and I.

"What are your orders, Grey Warden?" One of the knights asked, a hand on his sword.

The Warden raised a hand, a smile stretching its way across his face. "Stand down," he said.

"Grey Warden, huh?" I asked, eyeing the surrounding knights. Them, I could definitely take. A Grey Warden, though? I'd yet to discover whether or not the legends preceded them.

"Duncan, Warden Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens," the man said, extending a hand. Instead of extending my own, though, I decided that this situation deserved a tad bit more of an explanation.

"What exactly is it that I have that you want?" I asked, tapping the stolen sword against my hand.

"And what makes you believe that I don't simply want to aid a young elvish girl out of the good of my heart?" He asked in reply, laughing heartily.

"Freeing me would not be doing this world a favour, my friend," I answered. "So, what's the plan?"

The Warden Commander raised an eyebrow. "The plan?"

"Are we just going to keep this up, making quips about my lack of morality, or are you ever going to explain what it is you're after?"

"Duncan, I realise you're status, but this elf has been condemned to be executed immediately," the knight commander said, rubbing his head where I had hit him with the ink bottle. Suddenly remembering that I was a criminal in the middle of an escape, I once again tried to make my way away from the Warden. Duncan grabbed my arm though, and the man's stature did not lie concerning his strength.

"I intend to invoke the Right of Conscription," Duncan said. The statement caused several knights to gasp like first timers to The Pearl, and the knight commander to become rather lost for words.

"Um, I'm sorry. I can't exactly speak almighty, human bullshit," I said.

"It means that you're going to be recruited into the Grey Wardens. And don't disrespect this man, knife-ears," the commander said, glaring.

Suddenly lost for words myself, the circle of knights slowly dissipated.

"Uh, no thank you. I'd much rather, well, deal with these idiots, than join the legendary Grey Wardens," I said, with my fingers in quotation marks to aid the 'legendary' part. Unsheathing my sword, I bent my knees in preparation for the seemingly inevitable fight.

Instead of unsheathing his own sword, though, the knight commander just laughed. "Oh you poor, stupid little elf. You don't have a choice."

Pointing the sword at the Warden Commander's throat, I furrowed my brows. "This true?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so. It would be best if we go as soon as-"

"No way. Nope. I just got out of the Alienage and Maker help me I am not going to throw away my newfound freedom to suddenly run off with some old man to join a clan of almighty warriors. Maybe next time though," I hissed, reeling back the sword.

"Freedom is a bit of a stretch, wouldn't you say?" One of the knights cackled. Spinning around to decipher which knight had spoken, I stood in front of my target with barely an inch between us.

"You don't know the meaning of the word freedom, human," I said, spitting on his armour. This caused quite the ruckus of course, as humans like their shiny things almost as much as the dwarves. Shoving ensued, and eventually the knight and I had to be split up by the Warden Commander.

"He is right, though. You either come with me and join the Grey Wardens, or you are executed on the spot," Duncan said, and I managed to make out a hint of pity in his eyes.

"I'd rather die than fight alongside human scum."

The Warden shoved the knight away and put a hand to his sword. "Well, I guess we'll have to do this the hard way," but before the hilt of his sword could strike the side of my head, I lifted my own sword to parry it.

Struggling beneath the Warden's sheer force of strength, he continued to push down until I was practically crouching. Suddenly swinging one leg up, I managed to hit him right in the centre of his legs. As he buckled over in pain, I rolled to the side and sprinted out of the hall and into the streets of Denerim.

I pushed past the crowds of people, hearing the shouts of men behind me as they follow me out of the Fort. Where could I run? The Pearl and the Alienage were too far, and there's no way I could take salvation anywhere else. Who would let a rather notorious elven outlaw inside their walls?

Then I heard it. A scream. No, less than a scream. It was only a whimper, but I'd be able to recognize that voice anywhere. I span around frantically, trying to find her. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse though, just a glimpse. I sprinted with all of the energy one could possibly muster towards that red cloak, but I was nowhere close to her before she's pushed into the caravan and driven away.

"Falathae!" I screamed out. Standing there, dumbstruck, I collapsed onto my knees. The knights surrounded me once again. They grabbed my arms forcefully, expecting further retaliation. I gave them none.

She's gone. My little sister was taken once more. And once more, I couldn't save her.

While being escorted back to Fort Drakon, none of my thoughts grasped themselves onto my impending execution. Instead, they all laced themselves cruelly around Falathae. All I'd done so I could bring her back, and then I failed her again. No.

This is not how it was going to end. I would save her. No matter what some stupid Grey Warden would put me through.


	2. Chapter 1

Pain is a terrible thing to wake up to, and this time is no different. The right side of my ribcage is easily deduced to be full of fracturing, and my right leg feels as though it had just been sawed off and sewn back on. Groggily leaning to one side, I underestimate the size of whatever cot I was on and fall onto the ground in a heap. I clench my teeth to keep from screaming, but couldn't help the groans from escaping as I stand back up. I fight through the pain in my right leg to support myself, and hold an arm across my, then realised bandaged, ribcage.

"Mother shall be pleased," a voice says. As my vision clears, the silhouette of a rather scantily clad woman comes into focus.

Out of habit, I reach my arms back in pursuit of my daggers. Remembering that I am not exactly armed, I realise just how underdressed I am. Several layers of bandages are wrapped around my chest and ribcage, but my stomach is still on display. Thankfully, I have a pair of leather trousers on. Even despite my lack of dress, though, the woman is wearing much less with only a couple drapes of violet fabric and an abundance of raven feathers protecting her.

Regaining my bearings, I look the woman straight in her golden, excessively powdered eyes. "Where the hell am I, who the hell are you, and what the hell happened?"

The woman chuckles to herself, a laugh blatantly laced with pity. "You maean you don't remember?"

I close my eyes and focus. I escaped the alienage. I caused some mayhem. I got caught after being betrayed by that stupid merchant. The little shit. I was in a room with the knight commander. I was going to be executed. I ran. Then… what was his name? The big guy with the sword? David? Nah. Duncan.

The Grey Warden Commander.

The Grey Wardens.

I'm a Grey Warden.

The battle.

Ostagar.

"Shit," I hiss, pushing past who I then realised is Morrigan with a limp. She looked as though she had the intention of saying something, then stopped herself with a shake of her head. I fight through the pain and out of the room, and then out of the hut. Thankfully, the human fool is sitting in front of the house. Alive.

Alistair. Templar. Well, ex-Templar. Grey Warden, now, I thought. If the whole order is dead, does that mean the title still exists? That was cold. I should not have thought that. This man, no, this boy, just lost everything. And watched it happen. He could blame it on me. I mean, I obviously failed him, and everyone else. Duncan, the King… they were all dead, and I didn't do anything to stop it. I was weak.

I just stand in the doorway for a second, my mouth hung open slightly and an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Go talk to him, girl," Morrigan's mother whispered, appearing from behind me and pushing me forward.

I spin around towards the old woman. "And say what? Sorry I totally failed you and your entire order. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry you lost everything."

"He hasn't lost everything," she says. "He still has you."

"Oh yeah, like that has ever done anyone any good in the past," I start, but am quickly interrupted by a twig snapping behind me. Turning back around, Alistair stands several feet away from me. He looks just as bad as I probably do, with bandages wrapped around the entirety of his left arm. The bags under his eyes lead me to believe that he obviously hadn't slept since the battle, and the redness and swelling implied what he had done as an alternative.

"Rhys," he whispered. I was no longer Rhysa the alienage elf, or even Rhysa the criminal. I'm Rhys the (ex?)Grey Warden. "You're alive. I can't believe it, I mean-" he started, then continued to cut himself off by limping towards me and throwing his arms around me neck. Completely taken off guard by the sudden affection, I just stand there, arms at my sides, being choked half to death.

"Well isn't this just charming," Morrigan's sarcastic voice called from the door. Noticing the compromising situation he'd thrown myself into, the boy quickly lets go and blushes.

"I-I'm sorry. I mean, that was uncalled for, and uh, yeah I'm sorry, I guess," Alistair whimpers like a puppy.

"What's your name?" I ask Morrigan's mother, realising she had yet to imply such a thing.

"No respect," Morrigan sighs, a hand on her forehead. Her mother just cackles to herself.

"I have many names, girl. But, the Chasind folk call me Flemeth. If you must refer to me as something, it may be that."

Alistair's eyes open wide. "The Witch of the Wilds?" I recognise the name, from tales I'd always gotten too bored to finish.

"And what does that mean?" Flemeth snaps. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served us both well. Has it not?"

So she's a witch. Such a thing is not a mystery to me, I know my share of mages and was fully aware of the societal stigmatisation of them. The Circle, apostates, Templars… and now, this woman and her daughter

Looking to Alistair and reminded of his emotional trials, I glare at Flemeth. "Why'd you save us?"

"Are you not thankful?"

"No, actually. I've only been a Grey Warden for a couple of days, and yet you decided I was worth saving? You should have saved Duncan, or for shit's sake, King Cailan!" I snipe.

"I did what I could, girl. Don't disrespect me, and be thankful for what I have given you."

"She's right," Alistair cuts in. "This way, we can go after Loghain!" He says, reminding me of the betrayal I had witnessed at the battle. Loghain just left, leaving the Grey Wardens and the King to die. I realized what Alistair thought would happen now. He thought we would team up as a little duo of heroes and get revenge and save the world and be noble and heroic.

"I-I can't," I say, picturing Falathae in my head. I can't leave her now, even after everything. I was free, I could go after her. Seeing the sadness sweep over Alistair's face, and the guffawed look shared between Morrigan and her mother, I turned away and started running.

I did that a lot. Ran. The thing is, not matter how far you run, you'll always have your memories. You'll always have the people you've left behind burned into your mind like reminders of the mistakes you've made. You can't run away from your problems and you can't run away from the world. The world's a fast son of a bitch and it will always catch up to you.

The other fast son of a bitch?

Alistair.

"You know, I think I overestimated you, Rhys!" He shouted. "I thought you cared! I knew about you and what you'd been through, but I thought maybe we could become friends! But running away like this? That was the one thing I didn't think you'd do!" The boy tackles me from behind, and the two of us land on our backs in the forest. I could hear the pop of my injured leg, and knew that I'd failed. Again.

"You don't get it, do you?" I screamed, feeling tears develop not because of emotions but because of pain. "I'm not some bound by honour hero. I'm just some bitch who knows her way around weapons. The heroic one? That's you. You can go save the world. That story? It's yours, not mine. My story… there's a little girl I need to find. That's my story."

Alistair was panting beside me, sweat dripping down his forehead. "That little girl you need to find? She'll be dead soon! Just like Duncan. The Blight will kill her! Don't be so selfish!"

He was right. I knew he was right. I wasn't going to admit it, but I attempted to stand up. Of course, standing up is never easy with a severely injured leg.

The second I stepped my right leg, I fell onto the ground. Any normal person would pass out from the pain at that point, but of course, I am way too foolish to consider such an option.

"You're hurt," Alistair stated, and I snicker at his rather obvious remark. He stumbles over his words for a second, before giving me hand and helping me back to my one foot. The boy put an arm around my waist, and my arm around his shoulder. Slowly, the two of us made our way back to the hut, where Morrigan and Flemeth didn't look the slightest bit surprised to see me.

"I make no promises," I manage to make out. It's not like I can try running again.

Flemeth chuckles. "That's a start."


End file.
